Fujiwara
by Catwho
Summary: Be careful what you wish for! Hikaru is knocked back in time to the Heian court when he is called to avenge Sai. NON-ROMANCE.
1. Kyoto

Fujiwara  
  
* * *  
  
Author's note: This idea came to me in a dream, in lovely laser sharp quality as if it were the never made Hikaru no Go movie. Unfortunately, I had to go to work when I woke up, and I lost a lot of the clarity of details, but hopefully the two hours of research I did after work will make up for it. ^_^ I hope you enjoy this story, since I'm putting a lot into making it credible, accurate, and high quality.  
  
This fic will be revised once I'm done into a single, oneshot story.   
  
Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go belongs to Hotta & Obata, not me.   
  
Credits: Research on Kyoto came from the books "The Diary of Lady Murasaki" and "Old Kyoto," the latter by Diane Durston. Both of them were invaluable in giving names to places and plotting out the locations of stuff. I may still have messed a few details, but I've never been to Kyoto myself and so lack the experience of the old capital . . . The "cheating fantasy" scene described late in this story is from the doujinshi "Tsukiyou-soushi" by the circle Heart X Hand. It's a hoot, and I wish I could claim credit to the idea myself . . . does that make this story a fanfic of a fanfic? I hope not.  
  
* * *  
  
Modern Kyoto, 2002  
  
* * *  
  
"Let's see." Shindou Hikaru, age fifteen, stood at Kyoto Station in the central portion of the ancient city, staring at a map. Beside him, Touya Akira and several other young pros looked impatient. They'd arrived from Tokyo a few minutes ago, and Shindou had been the only one who thought to buy a map beforehand.   
  
"We're staying at the Riverside Takase Hotel," Akira reminded him.  
  
"I know! It's about a fifteen minute walk . . . that way," Hikaru replied, and pointed northeast. "We could catch a bus, but it's a nice day outside, and we're not getting paid enough to splurge."  
  
The other young pros sighed but privately agreed. It WAS a lovely day out; not too hot anymore, just perfect for strolling with the light luggage they'd brought along for the weekend festival. They'd been hired by the city of Kyoto to teach go at a booth the next day, which gave them today for exploring the city. An early morning train ride had been worth having a free day of sightseeing.  
  
As they walked along, Akira forced himself to attempt civilized conversation. "Have you ever been to Kyoto, Shindou?"  
  
"Nope, this is my first time. I can't wait to see all the Heian era buildings!"  
  
Akira rolled his eyes. "You are an uncultured clod, Shindou. Nothing has survived the Heian court except the streets and the Imperial Park. Kyoto is a city made of wood. Things burn down." Hikaru looked so disappointed that Akira amended, "There is, however, a Heian court museum not far from the Park."  
  
"Where's that?" Hikaru began peering intently at the map, and Akira pointed it out to him. Hikaru began turning the map this way and that, causing Akira to grow angrier and angrier until he finally snatched the map away from his rival.  
  
"Look, if you want, I'll show you around the damn city myself. At the rate you find things, you'll get lost until our next game."  
  
Hikaru looked rather embarassed, and mumbled, "Thanks."  
  
* * *  
  
The Riverside Takase Hotel was in a section of Kyoto that was relatively cheap compared to the northern parts of the city, which is probably why the go pros were staying there instead of somewhere more expensive. It was also within close walking distance of the train station and the subway, making it good as a tourist hub. Other hotels in the area even welcomed foreigners.  
  
Hikaru absorbed the sights with wide eyes, enjoying the beauty of the old city. Almost all the buildings were still made of wood, and the street they walked on was ancient cobblestone that had survived countless fires. Every other stop along the way he had darted toward different shops like a child.  
  
"Where do you want to visit first?" Akira asked, once they had checked into the hotel.  
  
"The old Imperial Palace grounds," Hikaru said immediately. Sai had taught there, almost a thousand years ago. Although Hikaru didn't believe that he'd find the ghost there or anything like he'd mistakingly thought about Shuusaku's shrine, he did honestly want to see the place where Sai, the living man, had once been. It was something he felt he ought to do.  
  
"Very well. It's just a park now. We can take the subway at Marutomachi station, get off at Demachi Yanagi station, and walk from there." Akira looked at Hikaru curiously. "Any particular reason you want to start there?"  
  
"Well . . . it was at the Imperial Palace that the game of go was first popularized, wasn't it? It's sort of my -- er, our heritage as go professionals."  
  
Akira looked thoughtful as they started the walk to the Kyoto subway line. "I never thought of it like that," he said, his dark green hair swinging as he rubbed his chin.  
  
Hikaru grinned. "In a lot of ways, the Heian court go players were the first professionals in the whole country." He sighed. "I would like to meet one of them," he said, almost forgetting and adding "again" to the end of the sentence.  
  
"You'll need a time machine," Akira snorted. "Or a god who's in a really, REALLY good mood."  
  
Hikaru joking bowed, Shinto style, right there in the middle of the street. "O-kami-sama," he intoned, "Grant this unworthy person the wish of meeting a Heian court go player in person."  
  
"Shindou, not only are you uncultured, you are blasphemous too."  
  
Hikaru laughed. "It's not like I swore in the name of Buddha or anything."  
  
"Don't even joke about that!"  
  
"Okay, okay, sheesh."   
  
* * *  
  
The two boys hopped off the Kyoto subway with a spring in their steps. There was something about the old quarter of Kyoto; the rows and rows of shops and eel-houses that had been there for hundreds of years, the solid feel of old cobblestones worn down to smoothest rock, the beauty of wood and stone and art that imbued the very air, that inspired a sense of adventure in the young. They were traveling through time to a grander age just by breathing.  
  
"Shindou, look, it's a go shop," Akira said, excitement in his usually calm voice. He pointed down the road that led to the south end of the Imperial Grounds. While the north end was surrounded by universities, the southern end was ringed with hundreds of stores. It was not surprising that there was one specializing in go, with what looked like a go salon behind it.   
  
"We have to go in!"   
  
Tourists or not, Akira and Hikaru were first and foremost go players, and like any hobbyists, they immediately flocked to specialty stores for their kind.  
  
Inside was dim and rustic. The shop was at least a hundred years old. Rows and rows of old go boards, go stones, go books, and various and sundry go paraphanalia lined the shelves and walls. The shop owner looked surprised to see young teenagers walk in at first, then smiled brightly when he realized who it was.  
  
"Touya Akira! And . . . Shindou Hikaru, isn't it? Well, what do you know? In my very own shop!"  
  
"Hello," Akira said politely with a small bow. He elbowed Hikaru, who followed suit rather sloppily.  
  
"What brings you two to Kyoto? The festival?"  
  
Akira nodded, while Hikaru started poking around the go books. "The city asked several of us pros to come and teach in a booth tomorrow. We're sightseeing today."  
  
"Ah, I see. Feel free to look around. We have some unique items that I'm sure you'll find interesting."  
  
Hikaru ducked behind an aisle, and while Akira and the shop owner talked about happenings in the go world, they entirely failed to notice the brilliant flash of light that arced in the air for a split second. They did, however, hear the sound of several go stones crashing and bouncing on the wooden floor.  
  
"Shindou, what are you DOING?" Akira yelled loudly, and peered into the aisle where the sound came from. But there was no Hikaru to be found. A bowl of old, mismatched go stones had tipped, and its contents spilled onto the shelf and floor, but other than that there was no evidence that anyone had been in that aisle seconds ago.  
  
"Shindou?"  
  
"Shindou-san?"  
  
* * *  
  
End part 1 


	2. Naritada

Author's note: Thanks so much for the reviews! I love feedback, and while I don't expect nor demand it, I sure do appreciate it, be it positive or negative. Thanks to Sakurayuki, Violintide, Baby-Phoenix, Lauren-sama, and Jeano.  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine, much to my disappointment. Neither is the Heian court, come to think of it. Some of the characters here are original, and some of them are historically based. I highly recommend "The Diary of Lady Murasaki" since it's basically a chronicle of the lives of all of Sai's relatives for two years. . .  
* * *  
  
"Where did Shindou-kun go?" The store owner asked, concerned. Akira narrowed his eyes and glared at down the aisle, as if he expected Hikaru to pop out of nowhere and blow him a raspberry for being so stupid as to wonder where he went.  
  
"He's probably trying to play some silly game," Akira concluded, groaning in disgust. He rubbed one aching temple, and sniffed the air suddenly, mildly puzzled at sharp notes of ozone wafting through the air with the dust motes stirred up by the crashing jar.  
  
"Nothing appears to be missing," the shopowner said, a sound not unlike relief in his voice. He scooped up the ancient stones and righted the jar, straightening the sign that said "Antique stones."  
  
"Shindou may be an idiot, but he's not a thief." Akira patted the man on the arm, comfortingly. "I apologize for the disturbance. Would you like to play a game while we wait for Shindou to get bored and come back?"  
  
Most shop owners do not become so unless they have an interest in the wares which they purvey, so of course the shopkeeper jumped at the opportunity.  
  
"I'd be most honored," he said, and directed Akira to one corned where a well-loved board and stones remained in perpetual readiness for games. "I actually won the grand prize in the Kyoto prefecture tournament fifteen years ago . . ."  
  
* * *  
  
Hikaru had sensed the magic as soon as he touched the stones. It was the same feeling he'd gotten when Sai first appeared, the feeling he had when he made an incredible move in a game . . . like a rush of electricity arcing up and down his body as something happened that only he could see.  
  
"Why me?" he thought as he landed hard, and then almost immediately blacked out from the impact on the wooden floor. The last thing he remembered was a rush like free falling through the air.  
  
He woke up, perhaps an hour later, to find himself rather uncomfortably tucked into a thin futon on another hard floor. He rubbed his head, muttering about being too attractive to supernatural forces, and blinked rapidly in the sunlight that assaulted his face from a ricepaper wall beside him.  
  
He was still in Kyoto, that much was for certain. But was it a hospital? Surely not; while historic Kyoto still had buildings hundreds of years old, most modern facilities like hospitals were, well, modern. The room was large and bare of furnishings. The floor wasn't even tatami; it was plain wood, and soft curtains formed the wall on one end. He was on some sort of raised platform as well, which was made of fine plain lacqured wood.  
  
"What . . . the hell?"   
  
Lightning. Why had lightning come up from the stones? That magic should only happen during a game of go. It was a magic he'd only see happen once to anyone else, and that was Touya Meijin, the first time they'd ever met . . . before he'd even wanted to play on his own. It was that magic that had lured him into the game in the first place. The light had flowed outward from the Meijin's fingers for the merest second, sending a shiver down Hikaru's spine. Sai's very presence during a game had been much the same, only in a milder, more permanent sense. Now that Sai was gone, Hikaru had never expected to see the magic happen to anyone else again again.  
  
Hikaru plopped back down on the futon, blowing his bangs into his eyes. When he'd met Sai, he'd passed out for half the day. At least this apparently wasn't as bad, he reflected, staring at his watch, which told him that it was still eleven in the morning. Then again, he'd gladly give up a year of his life to see Sai one more time, if that's what the magic had meant. Somehow Hikaru knew that Sai was not here, however.  
  
At the far end of the room, one of the curtains parted, and a very curiously dressed man entered. His outfit was traditional court dress, in a style similar to what Sai had always worn, although the colors were much darker and he had no hat. The man bore a wooden tray with tea things, and walked with the careful steps of someone balancing something very delicate and very heavy.  
  
"I see you are awake, young one," the man said in an old, old dialect. It took Hikaru a few moments of brain processing to decipher the words. "That's good. You must have had quite a nasty knock to your head."  
  
"Uh, I guess," Hikaru managed to choke out, feeling almost as lost as he did in English class. "Where am I?" He sat up once again, looking with interest at the tea tray. His mouth tasted like ash.  
  
The man apparently was having the same problem as Hikaru, because it took him several seconds to answer, "Why, in the capital, of course. Are you not from around here?"  
  
"I'm from Tokyo."  
  
"Never heard of that place. Well, my boy, you're lucky that my palanquin was passing by. The streets are a very bad place to take a nap."  
  
Hikaru found that he could understand the man if he forced himself to listen to the individual syllables and not the overall shape of the sentence. How could someone have NOT heard of Tokyo? Even foreigners from third world countries had heard of Tokyo, or so a lot of his text books claimed. And a palanquin -- waaaaait a minute.  
  
"This is one of those historical reenactment thingies, isn't it?" Hikaru said, feeling relieved at his deduction. "Ah, I get it, I'll play along."  
  
"Pardon?" the old man said, pouring hot water into a tiny tea cup and mixing it with a miniscule whisk.   
  
"Never mind," Hikaru said, and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Why did you bring me here? And what is your name? I'm Shindou Hikaru." He sat up again, and stepped off the platform onto the floor, where he knelt in front of the tray.  
  
"You may call me Naritada." He handed Hikaru one of the tiny cups of tea, and Hikaru accepted it gracefully, even remembering to add a polite "dozo" without being poked in the ribs for once.  
  
They drank the scalding tea in silent, small sips. Hikaru closed his eyes and savored the taste -- he generally preferred sodas to tea, but in the absence of a handy Coke machine, this was more than enough to whet his thirst.  
  
"So, Hikaru, what brings you to the capital?"  
  
"Go," Hikaru said automatically. "I'm a pro."  
  
"Igo? Pu-ro?" Naritada said the word carefully, rolling it around on his tongue a few times to catch the feel of the syllables. "What is a puro?"  
  
Hikaru grinned. This historical reenactment stuff was fun! "Where I come from --"  
  
"Tokyo," Naritada interjected, his eyes alighting with interest.  
  
"Yes, Tokyo, we have people who play go for a living. We teach, we play, we compete with each other for titles and money. I'm still pretty new; I've been a pro for just a little over a year now."  
  
"Ahhh," the old man said in understanding. "Much like our tutors here." He glanced at one of Hikaru's hands, saw the fingernails worn to stubs, and nodded approvingly. Any go player worth his salt had battle-scarred hands like Hikaru.  
  
"Exactly!" Hikaru agreed, setting his tea cup down a little too forcefully by accident. Some of the hot liquid spilled onto his hand, and he leapt up, sucking on the injured fingers with a pained expression in his eyes.  
  
"Be careful!"   
  
Hikaru whimpered and cursed his klutzy, growing body. Now that he was standing fully upright, he was surprised at how low the ceiling here was. If he reached up one hand, he could place his palm on the wood above him. He did so with his uninjured left limb, fascinated for no obvious reason. The ceilings in all the shops he'd been to earlier this morning hadn't been THIS low . . .  
  
"You're a tall one, just like my son Kohaku was. He could do the same thing." Naritada gathered the tea things, and wiped up the spill with a small scrap of old silk.   
  
"Was?" Hikaru had caught the past tense and a note of melancholy in the man's voice.  
  
"He was banished several years ago by Michinaga, in case he might have any aspirations to the throne. He died shortly thereafter."  
  
Something in the back of Hikaru's consciousness began ringing alarm bells. Michinaga, his mind whispered. Where have we heard this name before?  
  
"I'm sorry," he said.  
  
"As I said, it was a long time ago. You remind me a lot of Kohaku, actually. Although your hair is shorter . . . and his was . . ."  
  
"Not bleached?" Hikaru plucked one blonde strand from his fluffy bangs, and studied it. "I don't know why I still wear my hair like this. It was cool in '99, but now it's getting old . . ."  
  
It was then that Hikaru noticed that Naritada's hair was quite long and pulled back into a formal gray sweep. He wore no hat, although he seemed to have a severe case of hat head, judging from the kink around his crown.  
  
The alarm bells grew stronger in Hikaru's head. Get out of here, his subconscious screamed, and his consciousness agreed with it firmly.  
  
"Um, I think I should be going soon," Hikaru said as politely as possible, and bowed as well as he could when his brain was sending signals to his legs to run fast and far away.  
  
"Oh, leaving already? That's a shame, we could have played a game of go; my late nephew had a rather nice goban that the court gave to me after his disappearance."  
  
Hikaru gave a nervous laugh, and choked out, "Thank you for the offer, but I really have to get going. Touya's probably wondering if I got lost or something by now."  
  
Naritada sighed and heaved himself up, his heavy silk garments falling into place around him like a waterfall. "If you must. There is a door along the wall there, that will lead you to the street where I found you."  
  
"Thanks, Naritada-san!" Hikaru practically tripped over himself in his haste to depart, and eagerly slid open the doors, ready to burst forth once again into the streets of historic Kyoto.  
  
Unfortunately, he had not even burst a little bit when he realized that the scene before him was NOT the Kyoto he'd supposedly passed out in an hour ago.  
  
Facing directly in front of him was a beautiful, carefully tended garden. Beyond that, as far as his eyes could see, were rows upon rows of thousands of wooden roofed houses, their pointed ends a roiling sea of dark brown. No skyline such as that had been seen anywhere in Japan for centuries. Instead of the friendly apartments interspersed with charming shops and modern telephone poles and other amenities, the vista before him was filled solely with uninterrupted shacks.  
  
Hikaru carefully stepped back inside and closed the sliding rice paper doors, a horrible suspicion beginning to form in his mind. The magic had been there, after all . . .  
  
"Uh, Naritada-san?" Hikaru said, a long forgotten lesson from middle school Japanese history welling up from the depths of his memory. Michinaga, his mind quoted in Sai's lecturing voice, was perhaps the most ruthless of the Fujiwara regents ever to rule the Heian court. He had dozens of his own relatives killed in order to ensure that he retained his regency. He was the one that ordered me banished in the name of the Emperor . . . he was the one that allowed me to be framed by my own cousin.  
  
"Hikaru-san, is there something wrong?"  
  
Hikaru turned slowly, a trickle of fear killing his enthusiasm of seconds ago.  
  
"You're not a historical reenactor, are you."  
  
"What's a -- hesutorikaru rienakutaa?"  
  
Hikaru's headache returned with a vengeance, and he felt his body threatening to pass out once again. Lightning crackled on the edge of his vision. No, he told himself. No gods should have been in THIS good of a mood . . .  
  
"Nevermind that. What year is it?"  
  
"That's a strange question. It's Kankou 7, of course."  
  
Hikaru sank to the ground weakly.  
  
"You're telling me it's ONE THOUSAND TEN AD???"  
  
* * *  
  
End part two 


	3. The Hand of God

Fujiwara, Part III  
  
* * *  
  
Author's notes: I don't know how long I can keep this chapter rate of one every other day going, so it will be interesting to see how far it gets before Muse-chan peters out ^_^;; Poor Muse! I either rant on her or abuse her.  
  
Once again, review thanks go to Lauren-sama, Kaitou, TJ, Sakurayuki, and Jeano.  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine, except Naritada so far. Please don't sue, as I have no money.  
  
* * *  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
Akira and the shopkeeper both studied the board intensely. They were only about a third of the way through the game, but it was already clear whose skill was superior. Rather than drag it out, it is considered honorable to resign when the outcome is obvious.   
  
"I have lost," the shopekeeper said with a laugh, and bowed.  
  
"Thank you for the game," Akira answered, and started pointing out some of the other man's mistakes. "Your play was solid until here -- had you defended this stone instead of attacking on the north side of the board, I would have been in a much more difficult position."  
  
"Ahhh, I see now. I could have connected these in two turns." The man chuckled softly as he studied the board configuration. "Wait 'til I tell the boys in the salon tonight that I lost to Touya Akira!"  
  
Akira smiled back, faintly embarassed. "It was an honor to play you, sir," he managed. "I've still got much to learn myself, and every game teaches me more."  
  
"So modest, too." The shopkeeper began clearing away stones, and glanced toward the door. "Your friend has yet to return. I have to admit, I'm not sure why, but I somehow think that boy is almost as talented as you. The go world sure will be exciting in the next few years, let me tell you."  
  
"Shindou is . . ." Akira searched for a suitable word, and finally found one, "surprising. In many, many ways."  
  
* * *  
  
Hikaru felt like he was having a heart attack. This must be what it feels like, he said to himself, gasping and clutching his chest as he panicked. His heart felt as though it had sunk down to his stomach, and was waging a war with the other organ for dominance of his abdomen.  
  
"One thousand ten AD," he repeated, in a much quieter voice. "The Heian court. The reign of the . . . Fujiwara?"  
  
Naritada shrugged and reached out a hand to help the hysterical boy. "I'm not sure what one thousand ten 'ei-di' means, but yes, this is the capital city of Heian-kyou, and we are indeed under the reign of the Fujiwara. My name is Fujiwarano Naritada." He studied Hikaru thoughtfully, and felt the young man's forehead, checking for a fever. "Are you sure you're alright? You seem to have forgotten a lot of things."  
  
"I don't think I ever learned them, ojii-san," Hikaru, replied, rubbing his face anxiously. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and he had to ask, "Have you ever heard of Fujiwarano Sai?"  
  
Naritada looked troubled at the mention of the name. "Of course. He was the nephew I mentioned."  
  
Hikaru became terribly excited, his heart leaping back into its proper position and thumping like a puppy for all of five seconds, before he remembered what Naritada had said before. "Oh. Your late nephew."  
  
"Unfortunately. He disappeared four years ago, soon after my son Kohaku disappeared. 'Twas a pity, too, since he'd only been sentenced to exile for six months."  
  
Hikaru had never heard that part of the story. "That's all? For what he did?"  
  
"You assume he did something." The old man bent down and picked up the tea tray with a groan of exertion.  
  
"Well, yeah, to get exiled and all," Hikaru finished lamely.  
  
Naritada began walking toward the curtain that formed the far wall, where he had first come in, and Hikaru followed automatically, having to mince his steps to avoid passing by the shorter man.  
  
"He cheated in front of the Emperor, or so Tsuyujima, his rival, claims. The Sai I always knew would have been too honest to cheat."  
  
"Same here," Hikaru muttered under his breath. Sai had hated cheating, and loved meting out divine justice.  
  
"I believe he was set up by Tsuyujima and Michinaga. Sai would have had a tenuous claim to the throne, and Michinaga so hates competition for his grandchildren. They wanted to discredit him, not kill him."  
  
Hikaru nodded. "They didn't understand that not being able to play go would kill someone like Sai."  
  
"You sound as if you knew him yourself," Naritada commented, and set the tea tray down once they passed through the curtain. The room they were now in was much larger and had a taller ceiling than the other portion. There had been a step down, and looking back Hikaru realized that the room they had left was some sort of sleeping area with a raised floor.  
  
"I think all go players know each other, on some level," Hikaru said carefully.  
  
Now they were in a more central room, and as Hikaru watched with wide eyes two young servant girls came along and whisked the tea tray to another part of the mansion they were in.  
  
"Shall we play a game?"   
  
Hikaru looked to where Naritada was gesturing, and saw a beautiful, lovingly crafted goban settled against one wall. The light streamed in from the open sliding door that it was in front of, illuminating the water of a koi pond and the dance of the carp inside it.   
  
"As I said, this belonged to my nephew Sai." Naritada kneeled in front of the goban, and touched it reverently. "I keep it here in the hopes that someday he may return, however small that hope may be. Go on, sit, Sai won't mind us playing, wherever he is."  
  
For the first time, the impact of his situation sunk into Hikaru's beleaguered mind. He had, through the benevolence of some god, been tossed back nearly a thousand years, and was now being asked to play a game of go with Sai's uncle.   
  
Sai was still gone. Disappeared, to them, as he was to Hikaru. Oh Sai, Hikaru wanted to cry out, why don't you ever let people know when you're planning to leave? You seem to have hurt as least one other person as much as you hurt me . . .  
  
Feeling quite sorry for himself, Hikaru sat in front of the board, and touched the kaya wood delicately. Immediately, the lightning flashed up his arm, and he gasped in shock. Naritada appeared not to have noticed.  
  
"This . . . this is the board that Sai played at, every day, for his whole life . . ." Hikaru stare at his hand, puzzled at the flash of magic. Had it come from him, or from the go board?  
  
"Well, not his whole life. This was a gift from the Emperor Ichijo, for Sai's coming of age, two months before he disappeared." Naritada took a bowl of white stones, and handed the black stones to Hikaru. "Shall we play an even game?"  
  
"Sure," Hikaru agreed, and hesitantly picked up a black stone. The lightning did not return, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"No matter where you are, go will always be the same." Naritada smiled, the papery skin around his eyes crinkling with warmth.  
  
"Oh, I think some things might change a little." Hikaru picked up a handful of black stones, and Naritada set out two white sones. They counted them out together -- two, four, six, eight. Hikaru was white.  
  
And this is the Heian! Hikaru bit his lip. There was one change right there. No komi . . . no five and a half moku given to him . . . this was an advantage he'd gotten spoiled by when he played white. He'd just have to play like he was black, then, he decided. He closed his eyes, and the eyes that opened a moment later were completely different. Go WAS go, no matter where you were in the world, and apparently no matter when you were, either.  
  
He took a deep breath, and cleared his mind. The solid ping of shale against the kayo wood forced him to focus on the game.  
  
Unconsciously, he took out the fan he had purchased after the final time he had met Sai, in his dreams, and held onto like a lifeline. He kept it in his pocket, and always held it when he believed he neeeded Sai's strength. He'd need it here, to play on Sai's board. With Sai's stones. Against Sai's uncle . . . in Sai's world.  
  
* * *  
  
"Shindou," Akira muttered as he left the go shop to return to the streets of Kyoto. "I don't know the heck you think you're doing, disappearing like this, but I don't have to sit around and wait for you."  
  
Akira took a deep breath to dispell his anger. Hikaru always made him unreasonably angry; he had since the very first time they'd met. Lion and Dragon, they'd been called once by an overzealous reporter in Go Weekly. Doomed to clash every time they tried to breath the same air.  
  
He walked casually down the cobblestones towards the Imperial Park. Perhaps Hikaru had gone there without him.  
  
He would not admit that he was starting to get worried.  
  
* * *  
  
Pa-chi. Hikaru's infamous concentration had taken hold, and the universe around him consisted of nothing more than black and white stones and a kaya wood grid. The endless possibilites of go configurations ran through his mind faster than he could consciously think, and each plunk of his stones against the board was a solid, impressive move.  
  
But Naritada was strong, stronger than Hikaru would ever have guessed. He felt something oddly familiar about the gameplay, and then realized it felt a lot like he was playing against Sai again, albeit a much weaker Sai, one who had yet to master the modern strategies needed to capture larger territories against greater odds.  
  
Pa-chi. Naritada's move sparkled brilliantly on the board. There was a danger, but Hikaru could cut it off *there* -- and gain three more moku at the same time.   
  
He raised the stone high, and deliberately placed it with more force than necessary. As he held the stone for few seconds, pressing it down as if to affix it to the board, a flash of light emanated from his fingers. Hikaru tried to hide his gasp of surprise. The magic WAS in the board. Had Naritada seen it? Hikaru looked up into the face of the old man, expecting to see indifference or concentration.  
  
Not awe.  
  
"The hand of god," Naritada said softly, looking straight into Hikaru's eyes. Hikaru blanched. Sai had never explained exactly what the kami no itte was, exactly, but surely it was more than just a few random bits of shine leaking out from a particularly good move.  
  
"No," Hikaru said, surprised at the firmness in his voice.  
  
"Of course, not yet," Naritada agreed, shaking his head to clear it. "But this play . . . this strong, solid play, so much like Sai's go . . . in it, I can see the hand of god. In there, somewhere. Waiting to come out. Someone such as I am unable to draw it out, but Sai . . . yes, I would have liked for Sai to play against you."  
  
Hikaru had never regretted not finishing that final game with Sai more than at this point. He lowered his eyes to the board, unable to meet the old man gaze for gaze.  
  
"Are all the puros from Tokyo this strong?"  
  
"There are a lot who are stronger than I am," Hikaru said. "I'm still young. Touya Koyou says that I and the other new pros need to mature more as players before we can begin to really understand the nuances of true strength."  
  
Naritada nodded in agreement. "Sai was young, too, which is why he never was able to attain the hand of god while I knew him. I taught him to play, you know. So much potential wasted . . . and for politics." Naritada looked old and bitter then, and Hikaru longed to tell him the whole story, at least the parts that he understood. But he knew, much as he knew that he could never share the secret of Sai with those in the future, that he could not explain Sai's journey in time to anyone here in the Heian. They'd never believe him, for starters.  
  
The Sai that Hikaru had known had lived an entire extra life, and still been unable to reach the hand of god. If this go board had been a gift for his coming of age, that meant that Sai had been no more than twenty when he died, assuming that the coming of age ceremony had never really changed over the centuries. Hikaru was rather shaky on history as a whole, and unless Sai had lectured him, he rarely paid attention. Now that he was apparently stuck in the Heian, he hoped his ignorance of his own country wouldn't come back to bite him.  
  
The Heian . . . why am I accepting this so easily? he asked himself, now that he was free to concentrate on something besides go. The comment I made in the street was a joke. Surely the kami-sama -- if they even exist -- would have realized that.   
  
The part of him that acted smarter than the rest of him answered: The reason you're accepting it is because it's real, and if you don't accept it, you'll go nuts. And we don't want that now, do we? So let's NOT dwell on it.  
  
The human mind has a remarkable ability to heal itself in these sort of situations.  
  
"Since you are here to play go, you'll probably want to play against someone strong," Naritada was saying. "The Emperor normally takes a go lesson around midday. Would you like to play a game against him? I'm sure that he will appreciate your talents."  
  
"Erk," Hikaru said, and flinched. "Would Michinaga-sama allow it? I mean, I'm a stranger, I'm no relation to anyone in the court, I'm weird looking . . ."  
  
"If I request it, I'm certain. You are my guest here, after all, and Michinaga IS my cousin." Naritada patted Hikaru's hand reassuringly. "Although we will have to do something about your appearance. Does everyone dress in the manner as you are currently in Tokyo?"  
  
Hikaru glanced down at his worn jeans, white t-shirt, blue overshirt with stenciled rabbits, and signature enormous sneakers.  
  
"Most boys my age do," he said, mildly defensive.   
  
"Well, fortunately, you are about Kohaku's height. There is at least one court outfit he never wore that should fit you well. It may be a bit behind current styles, but that is excuseable for one who hasn't been to court before." Naritada began clearing the stones, and Hikaru assisted him, until the board was once again in rights.  
  
Hikaru sighed, and decided that all things considered, he could be in a lot worse shape than he was in now. If Naritada hadn't -- well, hadn't rescued an unconscious stranger, Hikaru might well be dead by now, trampled in the streets by a horse or crushed by a palanquin.  
  
"Thank you, Naritada-san," Hikaru said, and followed the man to yet another part of the mansion. "Oh, and do I have to wear one of those funny looking tall hats? Please tell me I don't . . ."  
  
* * *  
  
End part III 


	4. Ramen

Another shorter chapter, gomen! I'm waiting for a research book to come in before I write any more. 

The outfit Sai wore is called a konoshi. I had a link posted, but ffnet is stripping all URLs from text files at the moment.

Since Hikaru's image color is yellow, his konoshi is yellow too. I imagine he'd look very cute in that. I did a sketch I need to scan and link and stuff soon.

Edit on 3/24/05: Fixed a typo of doom in this chapter.

Disclaimer: None of them are mine, they belong to Hotta & Obata and Shounen Jump and lots of other people in Japan. Oh, and history too.

* * *

Fujiwara, part 4

* * *

Some time later, Akira paused outside of the boundaries of the Imperial Park, his hair ruffling softly in the breeze. 

Like Hikaru, he felt some strange, distant connection to this place. It was in the court that igo had gained popularity, and allowed talented players to first make a living trying to discover the universe in a configuration of stones. Unlike Hikaru, Akira knew that the court hadn't been held on the actual Imperial grounds very often, due to the fires that constantly burned down structures in the city as recently as a hundred years ago.

People often joked about Tokyo constantly being rebuilt after monster attacks, but it was actually grounded in the historical reality that when you have an old wooden city, stuff will rarely survive for very long.

Peeved at Hikaru for not being within eyeshot as soon as he had arrived at the grounds, Akira turned around and went back another block towards the river, and spotted the rest of the pros standing in line at a ramen shop.

"Yo! Touya-san! Get over here, they have green onion ramen on the menu!" Waya called enthusiastically. Akira trotted over to them obediently, breathing slightly heavier than before with the effort. He reminded himself to not get used to the sendentary lifestyle of a pro TOO early.

"I think I'll take just ramen myself, but I'm happy to see you're so enthused over the prospect."

Waya grinned. "I haven't had a good bowl of green onion ramen in ages. Say, Touya, where's Shindou? We thought he was with you."

"I thought he was too. He disappeared about two hours ago." Akira sighed and shrugged, his light windbreaker crinkling with the motion. "If he was half as good at go as he is at getting lost . . ."

"Oh well. He'll turn up again when he's hungry. Man, and the ramen is only 400 yen a bowl!" Waya's eyes shone with joy. "Shindou will certainly regret missing out on THIS . . "

* * *

After a rather confused moment where Hikaru had quietly inquired about the "facilities" and Naritada directed him out to the outhouse in the garden, they were inside a dressing room of the mansion, where Naritada oversaw servants covering Hikaru in the clothing of a lower ranking courtier. 

"What do you mean, they're not on the capital grounds?" Hikaru said, peering over his shoulder to stare at the enormous drooping sleeve that fell behind him. The court outfit was HEAVY. It's a good thing Sai was a ghost; it would have been hard for him to walk around like this all the time, Hikaru thought.

"The Palace burned down several years ago. Currently, the Emperor's court is being held in the Biwa mansion, two streets to the north of us." Naritada chuckled. "You don't hear much by way of news in Tokyo, do you?"

"Eheheh," Hikaru laughed nervously, and winced when Naritada stuck a tate-eboshi on his head. The large hat added to his already relatively tall height, but he just felt SILLY in the thing. The rest of the outfit was rather neat, however. Formal clothes had changes so much over the centuries; no one had worn an outfit like this in ages. Hikaru touched one of the sleeves, cautiously. It was genuine silk, carefully dyed and embroidered in a pale cream and yellow pattern. It was the everyday wear of the courtier; nothing terribly fancy by court standards, but Hikaru felt incredibly overdressed and not a little strange wearing the clothes he'd seen Sai in every day for three years.

"I've never worn a konoshi before," Hikaru said, lifting one leg of the heavy, strange sashinuki pants to stare at the unworn soles of the tabi that had replaced his reliable old gym socks.

"Most of the commoners outside of the court never have," Naritada replied, settling his own tate-eboshi in the hat-head grooves that permanently kinked his long hair. He tied strings underneath his chin to hold it in place, which also acted as a sign of his status. "Warrior generals prefer the soh, and garments such as these are not really meant to be worn outside civilization. One who is skilled at go such as you cannot be a commoner however, so the assumption of the seventh rank for you will be quite all right."

Hikaru nodded. "In my ti- er, _ town_, Tokyo, only a very few people wear formal clothes anywhere. Western wear has sort of taken over."

"Western? You mean like Kyuushuu?"

Hikaru gave up. "Yeah, like Kyuushuu. The style of, uh, kosode garments they wear there. We adapted them." Something that had been bothering Hikaru finally caused him to speak his mind. "Is it really all right for me to meet the Emperor? I'm . . . a nobody. Just saying I'm seventh rank doesn't make me anything special."

"But I am a courtier of the second rank, and I will be escorting you," Naritada said, and that was that. "Just do not say anything. The Emperor will be behind a screen in the audience room; you can remain outside until I speak with His Excellency Michinaga."

The servants (who had all been wearing plain kosode themselves, Hikaru had noted) trickled away quickly like mice to their holes. Considering the richness of the house that he was in and the fact that Naritada had just proclaimed himself to be the second rank (and now had on the lavender court robes on to prove it), Hikaru surmised that Naritada was far more important than he'd originally guessed.

Let's see, he desperately told himself as they left the mansion and bundled into the palanquin which would take them to the Biwa estate. Court ranks in the Heian determined position and status. As a newly proclaimed seventh rank, I should technically not be allowed in to see the Emperor . . . but Naritada can bypass that, I guess.

The second-ranked Naritada, a count by the Heian rankings, pointed out various mansions as they passed through the crowded streets of the Fujiwara section of Heian-kyou. Hikaru nodded in interest, trying to calm his fluttering nerves. His stomach growled, and he had a sudden craving for green onion ramen.

"When was the last time you ate?" Naritada yelled over the noise of daytime Heian-kyo's crowded streets. Dozens of palanquins, carried by hundreds of servants, carted nobles to and fro. More than one palanquin had a drooping sleeve suddenly hang out of the door, as a noble lady spied a courtier she favored.

"Uh, on the train this morning," Hikaru replied before thinking.

"What's a tu-rain?"

"A method of travel," Hikaru answered.

"I'll ask you about it later," Naritada said, as they approached the Biwa mansion where court was currently held.

* * *

The group of young pros sat at a large table in the ramen shop, Waya happily slurping the green onion special he'd ordered. Akira picked at the slices of pork in his ramen, but he felt a little guilty enjoying one of Shindou's favorite dishes without his rival. 

"Touya-san, stop worrying about Shindou! He's probably laughing at us, wherever he is," Ochi declared, and pushes his glasses up authoratatively. "So irresponsible. He's a shame to all pros."

"Ochi, please shut up," Waya grumbled, and slurped up another chopstick-full of noodles. "Akira can worry about Shindou if he wants to. Just how and where did he disappear, anyway?"

Akira set his chopsticks down. "We were in a go shop. I was speaking with the owner, and Shindou was poking around in another aisle. We heard a crash, and looked, and he was just gone."

"D'you think he was kidnapped?" Waya said with a grin.

"Don't be silly," Ochi snapped. "Why would anyone kidnap Shindou? If they'd want to kidnap anyone, it'd he Touya, since at least they could hold him for ransom then."

"Maybe they thought Shindou was Touya?"

"I doubt it," Akira said, shaking his head. "There was no noise of footsteps running away, no sound of a struggle . . . and the bell didn't ring to let the shopkeeper know someone had left."

That last statement silenced everyone for a moment.

Isumi spoke up first, joining in the conversation finally. "Hey, Touya-san," he said slowly. "This _is_ old Kyoto . . . you don't think something . . . supernatural could have happened to him, do you?"

"You mean like a ghost ate him or something?" Waya said, eyes wide.

"I don't believe in superstitions," Akira said, rubbing his chin. "Although Shindou DID do something really stupid early this morning . . . he mocked a Shinto prayer right in the middle of the street and asked to meet a Heian court go player." He shook his head in denial. "No, that's just silly. He probably broke one of the antique go stones he was messing with and ran to hide."

"Antique go stones?" Waya said, interested. "Just how antique?"

"It's hard to date them precisely, since the older ones are worn just as smooth as the modern ones with time. The shopkeeper said he wouldn't have been surprised if some of those weren't a thousand . . . years old." The Heian.

Everyone was silent again.

"I have heard," Isumi said carefully, "that sometimes objects can act as a conduit through time."

"You think he ended up back in the Heian era?"

"The kami-sama might have heard his wish," Waya said with a nod, and reattacked his ramen. "Then again, it's more likely that the kami-sama would just bring a ghost around to meet him. Heh, that would explain a few things about Shindou, wouldn't it?"

Akira picked up his chopsticks and picked at his own ramen again, unable to put his thoughts into words.

"He'd get eaten alive in the Heian," Ochi said knowledgeably. "Even if he does manage to avoid being mistaken for a peasant, he'd have NO idea how to act."

"I certainly wouldn't want to have lived in the Heian, either," Waya agreed. "You were either a bored noble, or more likely, a starving serf. I'm _more_ than happy to be a child of the twenty first century." He slurped his ramen juice from the bowl to prove his point.

"I just don't believe in that sort of magic," Akira said weakly, but somehow knew without a doubt that Shindou's disappearance was more than just the other boy playing a strange game of hide and seek. Hikaru didn't have the attention span for anything besides go to play at a game for more than a few hours.

* * *

End part four 


	5. The Court

Author's note: Ouch! It took me two weeks to recieve my own copy of the Diary of Lady Murasaki. Gee, I don't know if it was really worth saving five dollars . . . although the book itself is definitely worth the $7.50 I actually paid for it. So I can finally restart this fic. I don't know if I can pick back up with a chapter a day, but it'll be fun to try, ne?  
  
I had made a mistake in chapter 2, which I have now corrected. The year 1010 is Kankou 7, not Kankou 5. The events described in this story are all Kankou 7, which might had confused someone who decided to read the Diary of Murasaki on their own . . . I've also made a gross miscalculation as to the Emperor Ichijo's age, which fortunately doesn't affect the story as written but rather throws off some of my plans (he's literally twice as old as I thought he was.) I've also fixed a few spelling errors and other random syntax errors in the first four chapters, and added a bit to chapter four.  
  
A shiznet of review thanks go to tdei, Shan, mangamad, Sakurayuki, Dark Cyradis, Sakura_star 63, Lauren-sama, Jenglory, Cinclayr, JMJ, Winter, and Murinae. A special thanks goes to Fizzy Squirrel from the Hikago ML, and to those who have sent me email :D  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine, despite my fondest wishes. All I own are a few volumes of the manga and a nice wallscroll . . . They really belong to Hotta, Obata, Shounen Jump, Studio Pierrot, and a bunch of other people and companies in Japan that I will probably never get a chance to properly thank.   
  
* * *  
  
Fujiwara, part 5  
  
* * *  
  
Sai had never really talked about his past much. Whenever he spoke of his life before Hikaru, he had mostly described the events surrounding Torajiro. Honinbo Shuusaku had such a profound impact on both Sai and the country itself that it was easy to see why Sai loved that time of his life best, but it saddened Hikaru that he hadn't spoken more of the uncle that now walked by Hikaru's side, or the cousin that had been killed needlessly. Perhaps those events had depressed Sai too much; the glamorous world of the Heian had been ripped from him by thoughtless ambition, and Sai could have never gone back. At that time he had lost his innocence, and the world had changed.  
  
I've lost my innocence too, now, I suppose, Hikaru thought has he stepped out of the rickety palanquin and stood before the grounds of the Biwa mansion. Naritada's entourage, apparently mostly minor officials themselves not above the fifth rank, left them alone as they entered the covered walkway that led from the muddy street to the main buildings of the temporary palace.  
  
Kankou 7. Ten thousand ten. Who was emperor then? Michinaga was in power, but he remained regent for a long time . . . wasn't it with his death that the Fujiwara family went into decline? Awww, man, I should have studied more, Hikaru lamented.  
  
The court was being held in the large room of the Biwa mansion. The building was a Fujiwara posession, and firmly in the Fujiwara "section" of Heian-kyou, much like Naritada's mansion had been. In the anteroom of the court, small groups of men, probably officials lesser than the fifth rank, sat and chatted and played go and other games. Someone played a stringed instrument. Hikaru glanced at one of the many fine go boards, and was surprised at how well the games were going. By his own standards they would be amateurs, since they couldn't all be go tutors to the emperor, but their skills were definitely up to insei levels if not higher. Hikaru would have enjoyed playing any one of them.  
  
"You must wait here, Hikaru," Naritada said, and pointed to a corner. "You can play a game if you wish, but I will come and get you if Michinaga grants you an audience with the Emperor."  
  
Hikaru nodded, and groaned when he felt the tate-eboshi slipping off his head. He reached up to grind it onto his hair, muttering about modern conditioners ruining traction for the sake of shine. He dropped as gracefully as he could into a kneeling position in front of an empty go board, flipping his sleeves out like he had seen Sai do so many times. Naritada gave him a long, hard look, then slipped through the curtains, into the main room of the court.  
  
"Man, this is complicated," Hikaru complained to himself, and sighed, glad that pro exhibitions in his time didn't require any more ceremony than a polite "please" and "thank you." He touched the wood of the board gently, then picked up a shale stone, the cool, smooth surface strange after touching the silk of his sleeves.  
  
"Sai," he whispered, and placed the stone on the board, recreating one of the games he had recently lost, trying to find some way that he could have won it. "So this is what you did every day? Of course, you were fourth ranked, you said as much yourself, so you didn't have to wait . . . but this is the sort of existance you led." He glanced around the room again. None of the other men paid him any attention outright, although there was an occassional curious glance. There were no women here; the Empress and her own court resided in a separate mansion, hidden behind curtains and fans and layers of silk.  
  
The Heian was regarded with a sort of distant awe in his time, both at the splender of their lives and also at the complete disregard they had for the outside world. The rich nobles of the court wasted their lives away playing go, promising love and then breaking their vows, fighting for petty ranks and status, penning poems that showed their wit and their aesthetics clearly. Hikaru's had never written a poem in his life.  
  
But he was good at go, at least.  
  
He had recreated a good portion of the game when one of the others in the room finally worked up the nerve to approach him.  
  
"Greetings," said the stranger, a rather plump old man. "We have never seen you here before, although we all have been here before. As the river flows, so does the water change, so that one cannot step into the same river twice in one season."  
  
It took Hikaru a moment to realize that the man had quipped a poem without even breaking a sweat. He had a moment of panic before deciding he'd make more of a fool of himself if he attempted to answer in kind.  
  
"Uh, I'm a go player from Tokyo," he said, and cringed and the bluntness of his own speech compared with the flowing poetry.  
  
The courtier blinked for a moment while he tried to decipher Hikaru's strange accent, then shrugged it off and kneeled on the other side of the go board, examining the game with unabashed curiosity. Hikaru continued placing stones, looking for the critical mistake he had made last week that had eventually cost him the game.  
  
"Your go is very good," the man said, "although I am not familiar of the practice of playing the game entirely by oneself."  
  
"I'm recreating a game I played before," he explained, and grinned when he saw the error he had made. Had he attached at the star, he'd have cut right through the path his opponent had sought to complete. Hikaru couldn't believe he'd missed that.  
  
"Oh," the man said. "I have heard that skilled players can do this. Although to witness the ghost of a battle lost would cause me great heartache."  
  
At the word "ghost" Hikaru jumped a little, then realized the man had slipped back into poetic speach again.   
  
"If one can vanquish the ghost that has been ressurrected, then the battle has now been won," Hikaru replied, surprised to hear himself assuming some of the flowing speech of the other. Naritada had spoken in constant prose, but then again, this was the actual COURT, and everyone here was constantly trying to impress and out-do everyone else.  
  
"But can a battle that was once lost ever be turned to a victory? The battlefield gives scars that time cannot reverse."  
  
"Time cannot reverse a scar, but instead it can heal it, making it as new. A warrior's scars are lessons learned."  
  
The older man chuckled slightly at Hikaru's unexpected comeback. As for himself, Hikaru was amazed at how easy it was to drop into the poetic speech of the everyday court. Heck, with a little work, he could even trim that last one down to a haiku! Only, they didn't write haiku in the Heian, did they? It was a longer poem back then . . . er, now.  
  
Naritada returned from beyond the curtain, and gestured at Hikaru to come near him, quickly.  
The young boy did so, leaving the old courtier to study the complex go game that Hikaru had left behind on the board.  
  
"His Excellency has agreed to grant you a private audience with the Emperor after the midday meal. In the meantime, we'll stay here at this mansion, but we don't have to reamin in these stuffy rooms."  
  
Hikaru was beginning to get the distinct impression that Naritada didn't like the courts very much either.  
  
"Food would be good," Hikaru agreed, and followed Naritada out of the anteroom towards another building of the mansion, where they apparently had food prepared for an afternoon meal.   
  
Behind them, in the anteroom, the older courtier was looking in amazement at the game that Hikaru had battled. Some of the moves that appeared so simple on the surface had deeper currents; the battle fought had truly been between masters at the game.  
  
"I haven't seen a game so well played since Sai disappeared," the old courtier mumbled thoughtfully to himself, and went to gather his comrades and show them the magnificent battle that the stranger had waged with himself.  
  
* * *  
  
Determined not to let Hikaru's thoughtless disappearance ruin his vacation, Akira had decided to visit the Costume Museum. He walked through the gallaries, amazed at the careful detail paid to each and every one of the miniature models. The layouts for the fictional Tale of Genji were the most spectacular; built entirely at scale, in wood, completely with colorful characters enacting scenes from the world's first novel.  
  
More than one scene depicted the nobles playing games of go. Even the go boards had been faithfully recreated in miniature. Akira studied one of the games, pleased to see that they had used a genuine game, although the style of play indicated it was contemporary as opposed to an older setup. That they had made the effort at all indicated how well thought-out each display was.  
  
Akira mulled over the idea of Hikaru's thoughtless wish. Back when the strange player known as Sai had reigned over the internet go world, someone had proclaimed him the Igo no Kami. Had a god of go seen fit to grant Hikaru's wish? It was silly, simply silly, and ground against Akira's logical mentality. Things like that just didn't happen. He half-believed in the gods, and Buddha, but religion had never figured largely in his upbringing. His father had not become the Meijin by being superstitious.  
  
Yet his father would probably believe the wild theory of Hikaru being abducted into the Heian, Akira mused. Touya Koyou liked that sort of story, so long as it had a purpose.  
  
"This place is just making it worse," Akira muttered, and left the costume museum, dissatisfied with himself.  
  
* * *  
  
The midday meal for the lower ranks of the court was served on elegantly arranged trays. There were no tables; everyone sat in small groups in the yard of the Biwa mansion, and ate and talked. Things were rather informal today, as it was an ordinary time and only the minimal amount of ceremony was required for propriety's sake.  
  
Hikaru picked at the unfamiliar food, longing for a bowl of ramen. "I bet Waya and Isumi had already found the best ramen shop in Kyoto and are eating without me," he whined to himself. Here he saw noble women for the first time; they wore layers and layers of gauzy silk and hid behind beautiful fans, their long hair hiding much of their faces. Once in a while they would smile, revealing blackened teeth.   
  
"I'm really glad the standards of beauty have changed," Hikaru said, and shuddered. He did have to grin at a vision of Akari with stained teeth; she'd look positively hideous like that.  
  
When he'd finally choked down enough to calm his rumbling stomach, he returned his tray to the servants and found Naritada talking with other upper ranked courtiers near a stream that ran through the mansion grounds. Hikaru peered into the flowing water, seeing his current appearance reflected for the first time. He wasn't sure he liked what he saw.  
  
"Kami-sama, why did you listen to my wish?" he asked. "Why on earth am I really here?"  
  
He heard footsteps behind him, and turned around to see a sour, middle-aged man glaring at him from the circle of courtiers. Hikaru shivered and looked away. The man was positively frightening.  
  
"Ah, Hikaru, you are here. The Emperor is in the West Corridor now. You must be sure to play him to the fullest of your abilities, as His Majesty is a formidable opponent. His tutors have taught him well."  
  
"Who is His Majesty's current tutor?" Hikaru asked as they crossed the footbridge over the stream.  
  
"Tsuyujima-san has remained the tutor since Sai disappeared. No one can beat his skill. He is over there," Naritada said, and pointed to the man who had been glaring at Hikaru moments ago. "Perhaps you will play a game with him today as well."  
  
Suddenly Hikaru became very afraid. Tsuyujima was the man who had caused Sai to be exiled . . . who had caused Sai to die.  
  
* * *  
  
End Part 5 


	6. The Emperor

Fujiwara Chapter 6  
  
AN: Thanks once again for all the reviews! Someone asked a very good question -- why does Naritada address Hikaru by his given name? Answer: Most people didn't HAVE family names in the Heian, and if they did, there was no need to mention them. Since literally a third of the court was Fujiwara, things would get terribly confusing if everyone called each other by their family name. People were most often referred to by a title instead, if they had one. If they didn't have one, they were called their first name or a nickname. (Lady Murasaki's real name is lost to time. Murasaki was a nickname based on the main female lead in Tale of Genji.) It wasn't until much later, when the majority of the Japanese population began taking second names, that the practice of politely referring to someone by their family name in the third person evolved ^_^  
  
The wisteria have bloomed in Georgia. Carr's Hill here in Athens is totally covered with it. We're keeping the windows open since it's nature's air freshener ^_^ *inhales!* Ahh . . . that smells so GOOD . . .  
  
Review thanks go to tdei (again! *glomps from Admin-chama*), Darke Angel, TJ, Kaitou Magician, Sakurayuki, chibisalee, Chibi Angel, Eowyn, (*gasp for breath, continue*) Darak, jeano, Murinae, Jenglory, Shan, Sakura-star-63, Dark Cyradis, Ryyan, Fangboy, Lady Astralis, Lara, Lauren-sama, Coronet, Ami, and Tenku-no-Sora. (*falls down, wheezing*) That's a lot of reviews! *passes out*  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine.  
  
Myuuzu-chan's notes: I like the .hack//sign OST. Cat should listen to it more. *sniffle*  
  
* * *  
  
Akira had returned to the hotel in the vain hope that Hikaru might have returned to the room they were sharing with Waya and Isumi, but found only those two playing an afternoon game on Waya's laptop to while away the afternoon hours. Akira watched the game with interest; go was go, whether played on a kaya board or a pixelated screen.  
  
"You're not on the network, are you?" Akira asked, peering at the game.  
  
"Naw, we're just using a standard download program. This hotel doesn't have net access. Figures." Waya placed a stone, accompianied by an electronic "meep!". "I wanted to check my email. Ugh, it isn't fair!"  
  
"Waya-kun's an email-aholic," Isumi said with a smile.  
  
"Only because people send me really interesting things! That, and I'm on the "who is Sai?" mailing list still, and I could be missing out on an important clue to his identify."  
  
"There's a Sai mailing list?" Akira asked, surprised. He hadn't thought about the strange person who'd won against his father in quite some time, until Isumi had mentioned him earlier that afternoon. "You all are still searching for that person?"  
  
"That person remains an elusive ghost. No one has seen him since that last game the Meijin -- Touya-san's father, that is -- played against him. But that just makes me more determined to find out who he is. Isumi-kun, it's your turn."  
  
"I know, I know," Isumi said, a look of fierce concentration upon his face.  
  
Waya sighed and leaned back, sipping a cola. "But the list HAS slowed down in the last couple of months. It's old news. Only a few people are doggedly trying to track him down now. You know Ogata-san? He hounds every member of the list, demanding any information that they have about him."  
  
"No one knows anything besides his name," Akira objected. "And his skill."  
  
"The god of igo," Isumi mumured, and placed a stone on the laptop.   
  
"Don't start with that nonsense again, Isumi-kun," Akira said sharply. "Sai has only the most . . . tenuous connection with Shindou, and Sai has nothing to do with his disappearance."  
  
Waya quickly placed another stone, and yawned. "Well, as long as he hasn't gotten arrested or anything, and he pays his share of the hotel bill, I can't complain that he's not hanging around. Sheesh, Shindou-kun can be so moody sometimes."  
  
Akira felt that something important had just happened, and he had missed it. He stared at the screen of Waya's laptop, feeling the flow of the game in his mind, at the same time replaying the conversation of the past few minutes, trying to catch what he hadn't processed before.  
  
That person remains an elusive ghost . . . the god of go.  
  
"Isumi, it's your turn again! Play!"  
  
"Stop being so impatient, Waya-kun."  
  
Where had Hikaru gone?  
  
* * *  
  
His Majesty, the Emperor Ichijo, was about thirty years old. Because Hikaru's low rank technically did not allow him access to the divine presence of the god-emperor, His Majesty's face was nearly covered with a cowl, and he hid behind a fan. Hikaru had the vaguest feeling of playing someone online, since he couldn't read the Emperor's expressions.  
  
Naritada and Michinaga, the Regent, stood close by and watched.  
  
"The boy is remarkable," Naritada said to his cousin in a quiet voice. "His style of play is very unique, unlike anything I can recall, and yet his strength reminds me of Sai."  
  
Michinaga said nothing, but looked at the game impassively. Normally around this time of day he would be playing with his grandchildren, the Crown Princes of Japan. Instead he was watching his son-in-law play a game against a veritable stranger, on the word of a cousin who had all but retired from the court recently.   
  
Finally Michinaga spoke. "Where did he say he was from again?"  
  
"From a village called Tokyo, Your Excellency."  
  
"I have never heard of such a place."  
  
"I assume it must be very far away then, Your Excellency." Naritada peered thoughtfuly at the board. "Now, see, that move is what I would have done, and what Sai would have done as well. I taught Sai to play go, if you recall."  
  
"And created another dreamer in the court." Michinaga flipped open his fan and held it to his face, creating a sharp contrast against his darkly stained lips.  
  
"Oh?" Naritada said with a smile. "Would you rather have a dreamer, or a schemer?"  
  
"Dreams are as dangerous as schemes, when the dream pool's reflection accurately shows one's potential." Michinaga considered that last phrase again, and decided to add it to his journal in a poetic form later. " 'Does not the acorn dream of oak trees?' " he quoted.  
  
"If it does, then the cherry blossoms must also dream of scattering on the wind," Naritada countered.  
  
"The future is ahead of all of us." Michinaga chose not to argue the point. He peered closely at the game, which had progressed in absolute silence from both parties. Michinaga was good at go; everyone in the court was an adept player at least, but the game before him was higher than that. His son-in-law the Emperor was an exceptional player of his own right, yet the stranger's game was up to this point confident, assertive, and strong. Ichijo might have trouble winning the game.  
  
"He shall have to play Tsuyujima after this," Naritada said. "That will be a most excellent matchup."  
  
"I don't want a recreation of the events of four years ago," Michinaga warned. "Tsuyujima is jealous of his skill and position. He does not like interference."  
  
"No, he doesn't," Naritada agreed softly. "He doesn't like competition at all."  
  
* * *  
  
The Emperor's skill was several levels above Naritada. Hikaru had to work much harder to concentrate. Not being able to see his opponent's face disturbed him, and the game was very close.  
  
His legs were beginning to hurt from sitting in the formal position for so long. How had Sai done this, every day? Even during pro matches they at least had a break to stretch out their legs and return the circulation to their feet. Hikaru and the Emperor had been going for nearly two hours now, and as they approached the endgame, Hikaru had to resist the temptation drop into the more comfortable cross-legged position. To do so would have been utterly disrespectful toward the Emperor.  
  
Hikaru placed a stone on the board, and let his fingers linger there for a moment as he studied the changes that the move had made on the matrix before them. Was it his imagination, or had a bit of the magic leaked out from his hands just then? A faint mote of light, but there nonetheless?  
  
He was now winning by two moku, by his count. He should be able to increase the lead by another in the next few hands.  
  
He grabbed his next stone in anticipation, when the Emperor spoke for the first time.  
  
"Wonderful," he said from behind his fan, and Hikaru risked a glance up to catch the Emperor's eyes glittering from beneath the cowl. "This is the way that go is meant to be played."  
  
Naritada had given Hikaru specific instructions not to speak to the Emperor, so he did not reply, but instead gave a sort of crooked smile in response.  
  
"I have lost," the Emperor said then, surprising Hikaru. They weren't into the endgame yet; things could have still been turned around if he had made a mistake.  
  
Unable to speak, Hikaru pointed to a spot on the board where the Emperor had gone a few turns before, then shook his head. He pointed to the place that would have been better with his fan, just like Sai had done when they played together, and nodded to show it was the best move at the time. Then he bowed low, and the Emperor bobbed slightly before Michinaga and an entire entourage of courtiers higher than the fifth rank gathered around them to study the game with interest.  
  
"Oh, what an interesting shape!"  
  
"I've never seen a game come out looking quite like this, Your Majesty."  
  
Everyone fawned over the Emperor, who was, of course, infinitely more important than Hikaru in their eyes, but Naritada approached Hikaru instead and clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"Well done, young Hikaru-san," he said. "A beautiful game. I'm glad you were permitted to play the Emperor; he is the second most skilled in the court, behind Tsuyujima."  
  
Hikaru remembered the sour faced man from before and shuddered.  
  
"At any rate, you've impressed the Emperor. I can certainly see him granting you fifth rank status at the next festival, just so he can play with you again."  
  
"He's a very good player," Hikaru admitted. "The game wasn't really finished yet."  
  
"Oh? Do you think you would have lost?" Naritada grinned at the young man.  
  
"No way!" Hikaru grinned and tapped his fan against his chin. "Well, if I made a mistake, he could have won."  
  
"I have a feeling you're not the type of person to make mistakes in a game."  
  
"Not anymore, anyway. You should have seen me when I first started! Why, S--" Hikaru cut off when he realized that he was about to explain how Sai had taught him the basics but never corrected mistakes until well after Hikaru had already made them. It forced Hikaru to see now only where the mistake had been made, but also WHY it was a mistake. As a learning tool, it had been utilized by go teachers for centuries.  
  
"Everyone has to start somewhere. When did you learn to play go, Hikaru?"  
  
"Only . . . three and a half years ago. Not that long at all." Hikaru adjusted his tate-eboshi again, and looked back to the cluster of courtiers around the Emperor. Suddenly, Tsuyujima caught his eye.  
  
Hikaru bit his lip. The sour faced man was walking toward him.  
  
Naritada gripped Hikaru's shoulder as Tsuyujima approached them. The other man bowed too low, almost sarcastically so, and gave Hikaru a sickly smile. Hikaru did not return it.  
  
"Truly a match well played," Tsuyujima said. "Most impressive, if done with a strange style."  
  
Hikaru gazed levelly at the other man, but said nothing.  
  
Tsuyujima was unfazed. "I would like to play a game with you this evening," he said. Naritada tightened his grip on Hikaru's shoulder in warning.  
  
This is the man that had Sai killed.  
  
Suddenly Hikaru was angry, angry at the circumstances which had ruined Sai's life here in the Heian, angry at the politics that would have an innocent man killed just to protect someone else's power. At the center of his anger stood not Michinaga, who actually didn't seem like the man-eating beast history had made him out to be, but this man, this Tsuyujima, who had accused Sai of cheating to protect his own interests.  
  
"If that is a challenge," Hikaru said quietly, "then I have no choice but to accept it."  
  
* * *  
  
End part six  
  
* * * 


	7. Tsuyujima

Author's note: I honestly did not mean to leave everyone hanging. A lot of stuff happened in real life (no, it was NOT the flame that made me stop! It's a work of fiction; not everyone is gonna like it. That's that.) Good news is that I got promoted at work and no longer have to slave away on the phones. Bad news is that I still don't have one of those super cushy jobs that allows me to sit and write fics all day, like my room mates do. (Hey, I have a shiny "supervisor" line on my resumé now. :D They don't!)  
  
I also went to ACEN this past weekend. I was on the fanfiction panel, and I had a blast blabbing about the Inuyasha and Hikago fandoms ^_^;; I also got my picture taken with Yasunori Ide since I was the ONLY Mizuho Kazami cosplayer in the entire frickin' con, and she was on everyone's badges and everything in celebration of his first trip to the US . . . o_O I'm still in shock over that one.  
  
Anyway, when real life bites, it bites hard. One side note to future flamers: Please leave the other readers of this fic out of it. Flame me all you want, as I'm fireproof, but leave them alone since they didn't write the thing that so offended your eyes.  
  
* * *  
  
As he sat down before the go board, Hikaru knew that this was one game that he could not afford to lose.  
  
He recalled Sai once telling him about a daydream he'd had -- where he had played his final game against Tsuyujima differently, taking no stones in the heated battle. He had imagined the court laughing as he pointed to the empty lid, saying, "Um, I don't see anything here, do you?"  
  
Now Hikaru and Tsuyujima sat before the Emperor, who was behind a screen. Next to him was Michinaga and several attendents. The floor below was smoothed wood, although the two go players had cushions to kneel upon. A solemn tension filled the air, and Hikaru found it a little difficult to breathe.  
  
"Please," Tsuyujima said, and they chose stones in the manner of an even game -- Hikaru ended up with black.   
  
The sleeves of his Heian court rob drifted against the wooden floor as he placed stone after stone, his eyes darkened with concentration as he sought out Tsuyujima's weaknesses. Igo is a representation of the heart of the player, and the war fought with shale and shell on the board is a battle of will more than anything else.  
  
Hikaru glanced up and saw the eyes of Tsuyujima, and felt his first stab of doubt. This man was Sai's rival, even if he had resorted to cheating to make sure he retained his favored position in the court. Tsuyujima's eyes held a weight to them, a weight which could drag the heart of his opponent down into the glooms of despair if they fell into them. It was the same look that Akira's eyes held, only colder and somehow more frightening. An opponent had told Hikaru that his eyes took on the same look when he was really serious.  
  
Hikaru was stronger than most go players, however, and resisted the dragging menace of the older man's stare.  
  
I have to win this for Sai, he told himself, as he placed another stone, gritting his teeth as paths of black and white formed before his eyes. I have no alternative to winning!   
  
Those same words had not been able to help him win many times before, but perhaps for the first time Hikaru honestly believed them. Failure was not an option.  
  
* * *  
  
The Museum of the Heian was in a comfortable building across the street from the south end of Imperial Park. Akira had not known quite what to expect, but he was pleasantly surprised to learn that they not only had a small shrine to go, which he studied thoroughly for at least an hour, but also a small public library full of records, similar to that in the Go Institute in Tokyo.  
  
Akira's curiosity overtook him, and he selected a tome dated from the late Heian. The actual book was a reprint from the 1950s with the written language changed from the Chinese characters and record writing to modern kana and kanji. While spoken Japanese hadn't evolved all that much in the past thousand years, at least beyond the multitude of imported words as far as the modern scholars could tell, written Japanese had not settled into the current form until much more recently. Genuine Heian documents, or more likely copies of them, were all but impossible for someone not trained to understand them.  
  
Restlessly, he began to read about the reign of Regent Michinaga.  
  
* * *  
  
They were nearing mid-game. Hikaru was holding up well despite the ruthless onslaught from an opponent who had little honor; the game was still within his favor by a few moku, although in a modern game Hikaru would actually be behind by several due to the komi advantage given to white.  
  
They had played in silence until then, but as Hikaru placed a stone in a spot that seemed to almost glow with power, Tsuyujima said softly, "You were a student of Sai's, were you not?"  
  
A few motes of the magic seemed to escape from Hikaru's fingers as Tsuyujima continued. He had gained at least two definite moku with the move, leaving them with a game that was even by modern standards.  
  
"I can see the power in you, the same strength that existed in Sai."  
  
Hikaru gently lifted his fingers off the stone, wishing the magic would stay for more than just a few seconds. "I have never met the person named Sai," he half-fibbed. He had met the ghost, but not the man. He would never see that person, even if the kami had given him this chance to meet a Heian go player . . .  
  
Why had the gods listened to his half-joking prayer? he asked himself again. Tsuyujima placed another stone, almost tempting Hikaru to capture it, but he knew about the traps that his opponent could lay. Go relied on honor, trust, and honesty between two opponents. When one opponent proved capable of violating that trust, he lost his honor.  
  
Perhaps, Hikaru mused as he attacked Tsuyujima with a daring push deep into the other player's territory, the gods wanted to give me a chance to avenge Sai's honor.   
  
"If you did not learn igo under Sai, then I am a wandering warrior," Tsuyujima finally replied. He had been analyzing the board, and with a start Hikaru realized that it did, indeed, look on par to a game that Sai would have played. There were a lot of modern moves intertwined with Sai's distinctive domination patterns, but the imprint of Sai was in every black stone on that board.  
  
I owe it to Sai to get this bastard, Hikaru thought suddenly with a grin, and then attacked even deeper into Tsuyujima's territory. "I bet you're a better warrior than you are a courtier, anyway," Hikaru taunted. "Without go, you'd be all but useless here at court!"  
  
Tsuyujima's eyes bugged out at the verbal attack, but he managed to control his temper with several deep breaths. "Better to be a useless courtier than a false interloper of no rank who cuts his hair short and wears borrowed clothes!" he hissed.  
  
Hikaru almost burst out laughing. Tsuyujima's insults would have probably stung if he hadn't been born in the 20th century. "You're a thousand years too early to get the best of me," he said, and slammed down another stone.  
  
"There should be more thought as to the current time and place for a petty fight," one courtier in the front row whispered to another.  
  
"There will be silence in the court!" the regent called sternly to the speakers.  
  
Obviously, their conversation had been overheard by Michinaga even though it had been spoken in hushed tones.   
  
Tsuyujima glared at the board. He'd lost face by forgetting his temper in front of the Emperor. They probably would not drop his ranking or exile him, but now it would be a long time before was promoted again.  
  
"Sai wouldn't have gotten angry," Hikaru whispered as a parting shot.  
  
That did it.  
  
Hikaru heard a quiet sound as Tsuyujima picked up an extra stone from his bucket -- a black one that had purposely been mixed in with his white prior to the game, no doubt -- and dropped it into the lid where all his other captured stones had been stored.  
  
Hikaru was about to cry foul, and Tsuyujima looked as though he were about to accuse Hikaru of what he himself had just done, when the Emperor's firm voice rang throughout the court.  
  
"I saw that."  
  
"I did too!" Naritada said, glaring at Tsuyujima, who had turned an interesting shade of gray. "Just like I saw it four years ago when my nephew Sai faced this player!"  
  
The court immediately burst into murmurs as several of the other courtiers nodded in affirmation. They'd had no choice but to believe Tsuyujima at the time, but privately everyone had agreed that Sai would never *need* to cheat.  
  
"Lies!" Tsuyujima cried out, his face an interesting shade of purple.  
  
"So you're saying His Majesty is lying?" Hikaru said with a smirk. "Not the smartest thing to do right now, dummy."  
  
Michinaga stepped out from behind the screen, his expression unreadable. It probably grated on his nerves that the plan to discredit Sai was now coming back to haunt him, but Tsuyujima had acted without Michinaga's support in this case and could not count on him to bail him out.  
  
Michinaga stared at the board for a few moments.  
  
"The outcome of the game is clear. Shindou no Hikaru's igo is stronger. Sugawara no Akitada, for lying in front of the Emperor, the punishment, as you know, is exile. For six months in this case."  
  
Hikaru nearly jumped when he heard the name; he hadn't realized that Tsuyujima was the man's formal title. Nearly everyone in the court went by a formal title, but Sai had never mentioned one for himself, and so Hikaru hadn't though to ask for Tsuyujima's real name.  
  
"I'll go." The defeated courtier rose with a curious dignity, his shoulders held high as he left the chamber.  
  
It was then that Hikaru made the worst mistake he possibly could have.  
  
"Just don't drown yourself like Sai did!" he called out across the court, which immediately fell into deadly silence.  
  
Open mouth, insert foot. Hikaru felt his blood freeze as every pair of eyes in the court bored through him.  
  
Naritada paled. "How do you know that Sai drowned?"  
  
"Uh . . . that is, I, um--"  
  
"You'd better explain, young man," Michinaga said, raising one eyebrow.  
  
* * *  
  
End chapter 7  
  
Wow! So there will be a chapter eight! Heck, I'm more surprised than you guys probably are. 


	8. The Truth

Sorry for the delay. The reason? My muse railroaded me in the middle of the last chapter and put in something that was not planned. YUCK. That, and I was distracted by the uber-cute anime series Princess Tutu. And I became one of the webslaves for Toriyama's World. Yeah, it all adds up . . . 

Edit on 3/24/05: Fixed a typo of doom. There were only two in the story, but now it is PERFECT with no typos. :D I think.

* * *

Fujiwara, Part Eight

* * *

The entire court stared at him. Hikaru felt like he was caught in one of those never-ending dreams, the bad ones where you're in school dressed in nothing but your underwear, or a chicken suit.

He coughed.

Aw, hell, at this point, the truth wouldn't hurt, now would it?

"I was sent here to avenge Fujiwara no Sai."

The court began tittering again, and Naritada's ashen face was enough to make Hikaru regret telling the truth. But he pressed on.

"Sai . . . to me, was a ghost. He drowned and became a wandering spirit. Just a few years ago . . ." Hikaru actually felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. "A few years ago, I found him in my grandfather's go board."

The truth, with no mention of the thousand-year gap. But surely no one would believe such a story, even the superstitious Heian people.

He continued anyway. "Sai taught me how to play go, so that I could help him reach for the hand of god, even from beyond death. But Sai left. He left me with nothing but his go." Hikaru stared at his hands, the nails chipped and scarred from holding go stones, the tips of his thumb, index, and middle finger rough and calloused from years of serious play.

"So Sai became a ghost, eh?" Naritada suddenly said, breaking the awkward silence. Everyone turned to the old courtier in surprise. "I always thought there was a touch of the supernatural in him."

Michinaga interrupted. "Surely we cannot accept the word of a stranger "

"I believe him as well," one of the other courtiers called out from the audience. "I saw him recreate a game from the depths of his mind, and in that game I know that I saw Sai!"

Others began muttering in affirmation. Michinaga's face grew darker and darker; the position of Regent required strict adherence to custom and ceremony but little belief, and he would not want anyone thinking that even an acquitted Sai was closer to the gods than his son-in-law, the Emperor. Yet even Ichijo chimed in, saying, "I too saw the hand of God and Sai within his go."

Hikaru was weeping silently now, knowing that the debt he'd owed Sai had partly been repaid, although Sai himself would never be aware of it.

I think, he began to himself. I think it's okay to go home now. I want to go home. I want to play with Akira, and Waya and everyone again . . . I want to hear Akari and my mother nagging me . . . I want to be in my own world. I don't belong here. I'm a stranger . . . hell, half the people can't even understand me here. This is not _my_ Japan.

Naritada came to stand by him.

"I owe you more than words can say," he said, grasping Hikaru's hands within his own. "My nephew's disappearance has always been a bone of contention within the court. So he truly . . . drowned?"

Hikaru nodded, glad he was finally able to speak freely with Naritada. "Two days after his exile began. I'm glad I was able to meet him. You know, he taught me almost everything. He played against the greatest pro in my town, the Meijin, and I began my own race against the Meijin's son. If I had never met Sai, I would never have found my go."

Naritada smiled, although his face looked older than it had before. "I am glad you were able to be touched by him. Did he perchance reach the hand of god before he . . . left?"

Hikaru shook his head sadly. "He managed to pass on his legacy, however, and even if I don't reach the hand of god myself, I will make sure to do the same." He chuckled softly, wiping away the last of his tears. "I hope I don't become a ghost, though."

"Will you return to Tokyo now?"

"I don't think I have a choice. If I am allowed to, then I will go, and nothing can stop it."

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. I'm an old man, I like the company."

"Thank you."

Hikaru surveyed the court one last time, then felt the familiar tingle of the magic returning. Is this how Sai felt? he wondered, as his limbs began to lose their feeling. Is this how he knew it was time to move on?

Swiftly, as there was now no time to spare, Hikaru knelt low before the screen, nearly prostrating himself before the Emperor. "Your Majesty," he began as loudly as he could without being rude, "please return the name Fujiwara no Sai to the records of your court."

"Absolutely not- " Michinaga began.

"Of course," the Emperor interrupted him, giving his father-in-law a look that was unreadable from behind the screen. "And Tsuyujima will be duly struck out."

Hikaru smiled as he felt himself fade into the ether. From the gasps of the courtiers around him, he knew that his disappearance was not going unnoticed.

"Hikaru!" Naritada called, and tried to grab onto the kneeling boy before him. But not even Naritada could stop the power of the gods, and Hikaru's last conscious thought before letting the magic overtake him was that even Michinaga was going to have to believe him after that little show.

* * *

Twilight had set before Akira almost gave up in disgust. Shindou was probably back at the hotel, eating ramen and laughing at Akira for running around Kyoto all day looking for him. Akira was angry with himself for getting so worked up over Hikaru's total thoughtlessness, but there was nothing to be done about that except yelling at him the next time he saw him.

"Shindou!" Akira slammed his fist onto the library table, vowing to read one more page and no more before leaving.

He blinked, however, when he turned the page and the letters were glowing red.

Before his eyes the ink actually rearranged itself. He blinked a few more times, and shook his head to see if it was a hallucination. He'd heard stories about fumes emanating from books as they aged, but nothing to this extent.

"This is . . ." be muttered to himself, and quickly read the text that was now forming before his very eyes. He couldn't help it; he concentrated as he did when a go game suddenly took a bad turn.

"Kankou One: The tutor known as Fujiwara no Naritada retired, leaving his court position to both his nephew Fujiwaran o Sai and his second cousin, whose name has been struck from history. Kankou Three: The tutor to the Emperor known as Fujiwara no Sai died. Kankou Four: The tutor whose name shall forever be banned from history began to teach his Majesty alone. Kankou Seven: The tutor known as Shindou no Hikaru, a student of Fujiwarano Sai, traveled to Heian-kyou to avenge his master. Kankou Seven: The tutor whose name has been struck from history was exiled from court for six month. He lived out his life in the provinces. Kankou Seven: The tutor known as Shindou no Hikaru died."

Horrified, Akira slammed the book shut, not believing what he had seen. History didn't happen like that! The words had reformed as he watched; the paragraph that he'd read only minutes before was completely different. Sugawara no Akitada had been the only tutor to the Emperor since Fujiwara no Naritada retired in Kankou Three. And now he was replaced by two names, one of which was surreally familiar, that had _not_ been there before.

"Ugh, it's late," Akira said, rubbing his eyes and chalking the whole thing up to those hallucinogenic fumes. "I've got to go to bed. I can kill Shindou in the morning."

He left the books carelessly on the table, knowing the librarians would shelve them behind him, and stumbled out of the museum, longing for nothing more a hot cup of tea and a soak in the onsen. It had been an exhausting day, and now his mind was melting down as well.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like he was going to get it anytime soon, because as soon as he stepped into evening light, he heard his named being yelled from across the Imperial Park.

"Touya!" Shindou's brash, still high-pitched voice called across the twilight park. Ridiculous, floppy garments hung off his tall form, impeding his speed, but he still approached Akira at a frightening velocity.

"Shindou-kun! Where the hell have you been all day!" Akira shouted, running to meet his rival for reasons he couldn't fathom. Across the lawns they raced, as if they had been separated for years instead of hours.

Finally, they met, but stopped short just a few feet of each other. Hikaru leaned over, gasping for breath, and caught the tall tate-eboshi hat as it fell of his head. Akira realized then that he was dressed in the style of a Heian courtier.

The image of the changing words returned to his mind.

"Where the heck did you get an outfit like that?"

Hikaru continued breathing heavily for a few moments, then answered, "A store, where else?"

"That looks like genuine silk," Akira said, incredulous. "An outfit like that must have cost over a hundred thousand yen!"

"It was on sale!"

Shindou no Hikaru, the student of Fujiwara no Sai, of the Heian court. Was it to be believed? Was that, after all, the connection between the Sai of the Internet and Hikaru?

Drained, Akira's shoulders dropped in defeat. He may have found another piece to the puzzle that was Hikaru, but now the entire picture had grown larger . . . to where it spanned a thousand years. It was too much. It was simply too much.

"Let's go back to the hotel."

Hikaru finally looked at him then, perhaps expecting more of Akira's wrath, but then he smiled suddenly. He had an older air about him than he had had this morning, as if he had lived many years in just one day.

"Yeah, let's go back, Touya." He handed Akira a single go stone, and Akira stared at the chipped black surface for a moment. "Someday, I will tell you everything. About today, about the past . . . everything. But not now."

The stone looked old, as old as if it too had been dated from the Heian court. Akira's rage returned in a rush. "You stole this from the go store, didn't you?"

"What? Hell no!"

"I can't believe I defended you to the shopkeeper!"

"I'm_ not_ a thief, moron!"

"So what were you DOING all day then, huh? Hiding?"

"I . . . uh, I was . . . I was playing go!"

They continued arguing, but started walking toward the hotel on the east side of Old Kyoto, side by side, the last rays of the setting sun beaming down upon them.

* * *

Fujiwara no owari.

* * *


End file.
